Forever
by irisbud
Summary: P/C This story takes place in the context of the book “Resistance”. This is story is done on the pretext that Beverly perished while carrying out her mission. Based on "Forever" by Vertical Horizion.


AN: This story takes place in the context of the book "Resistance". This is story is done on the pretext that Beverly perished while carrying out her mission. Loosely based on "Forever" by Vertical Horizon

I don't own ST:TNG, nor do I own "Forever " by Vertical Horizon

--

She was gone. She could hardly believe it herself. She sat on the edge of the bed they had only so recently shared, moved, somehow, even in her ethereal state that he had left her side just as it had been, as though in the hope that leaving her space unmolested would somehow prompt her return.

Only now could she see all that they could have been, all that they could have had. Some part of her wished that they had taken the chance earlier. It was the regret that bound her now to the living space that they had shared, the regret that made it impossible for her to move on and left her lingering in a nowhere that was somehow neither here nor there.

She had let down her defenses and allowed him in, allowed herself to feel the things that she had denied for so very long. Since their first meeting, in fact. She hadn't recognized those stirrings for what they had been then, of course, for she had been bound to Jack. Her lack of acknowledgement had done nothing to make them any less real.

If only she had allowed herself to love him sooner. If only, together, they could have cast aside the mantle of Jack's ghost that had hung between them; a shroud making their feelings seem somehow uncomfortable and inappropriate. They had both loved him so. If only they could have realized the depth that such feelings had ultimately added to their bond rather than shying away from the possible downfalls for so long.

He was laying awake now. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch his face, to comfort him. Somehow, she felt that the touch of death would be anything but a comfort. Even so, she couldn't bring herself to leave him. There were so many things she still wanted to do here, so many things she still wanted to say. If she could only have but another day.

She wondered if she would still be able to watch over him if she moved on. She didn't have much time to choose now, and the moments were dwindling. She feared that there would be nothing should she go on, but what was there should she remain? She could see him, hear him, but never touch him or speak with him. She stared into those piercing steel eyes, trying to memorize every last detail; trying to forget the way she had seen them in her last living moments, trying to forget the eyes of Locutus.

How long did forever last? She couldn't think about it, couldn't comprehend it. Her throat constricted as she thought about what lay beyond and where she was going. If only she could go with him, but it was a fate she would not wish upon him. If they could only undertake the journey together, carrying one another through.

He would still be with her, she knew, but it would never be the same. He was a part of her, a slice of her soul that could never be tarnished, as she was for him. Somehow, knowing she would live on in his memory as she had truly been was of some comfort to her.

She needed him now, more than ever. Somehow, she had never been so distant, yet never felt so close. She had watched him as he had grieved for his losses, and had been moved by the depth of his pain. She would give anything to comfort him, anything to ease his terrible pain.

He blamed himself for her death, just as he had blamed himself for the loss of Jack. She wished she could tell him that both incidents had been accidents and nothing more. He had done what was right in both cases and in so many more over the years and she felt proud of him for doing what was right, always. She wished that she could somehow convey to him that, in this, he had always been the most true and loyal of friends.

She hoped that he would continue to be the same, always. She wished that fate would allow him to forever be the man that she loved and that nothing would change him. In that way, all that they had been could live on. He had so changed her and, even in death, would never leave her.

She could read the pain in his eyes now; hear his soul crying out to her, though he made no noise. As always, she could hear the song inside his heart and know what he felt. She wished that she could let him know, wished that she could be the light of hope for him, wished that she could make it better.

She studied him once again, straining to hear words he would not say, longing to listen to the melodious sound of his voice just once more before she had to go. She would remember it always, just as she would remember him always.

The time was nearing now. She could feel herself beginning to fade, becoming ever more a part of a place that she had never been. She was filled with a cold, gripping sense of dread. He turned towards the spot where she waited, almost as though he could sense her fear.

Though his eyes never looked directly upon her, she knew that, somehow, he had been moved by her. He touched the pillow she had only so recently lay upon while she had still be warm and alive, and whispered of his love for her.

"And I you, Jean Luc," she whispered in a reply that would never be heard. "Forever."

--

He couldn't believe that she was gone. They had only just forged ahead, only just begun to live the life they had denied one another for so long. He felt as though he had just found peace and happiness within his soul, emotions that had eluded him for longer than he cared to admit.

He felt raw inside. Locutus had found a way to thwart him again. Though he would never return, he would be forever be haunted by the creature. He had caused her death. He had watched her die at the hands of the Borg Queen, and had screamed a primal scream that had never escaped his lips, for they had been controlled by Locutus, who, of course had cared nothing for her. Locutus was incapable of caring.

She had fulfilled her mission. The worst of all threats was forever vanquished in large part because of her efforts. He was himself again, and would be forevermore. On the inside, though, he doubted he would ever be whole again.

He needed her now, more than ever, for with her alone he could dare to be weak. He needed her to hold him, to comfort him, to bring him back from the abyss. Though he had lived without her for so long, she had always been there. The sight of her had always served to stanchion his courage, to strengthen his resolve, though she had never known.

He knew she would forever be with him, forever be a part of him, but he still felt as though he were being torn asunder by pain. He lay back on his pillows, wondering how he would go one, how he would proceed from one day to the next. He had done so before, and would doubtlessly do so again, but this night seemed the worst he had ever faced. He felt as though dawn would never come.

A part of him felt as though she were near him, still watching over him, still offering him her loving and support, still needing him, but always giving him what he needed in return.

She was here no longer, he knew. He looked over to the side of the bed that she had occupied just the night before. In his heart he could still hear the sound of her breathing. He touched her pillow as though to smooth back her coppery hair. "I love you, Beverly," he whispered. "God, how I love you."

For a moment, he allowed himself tears. She was really and truly gone. Never again would she hold him close. Never again would he feel her lips graze against his. The impish smile that had first drawn him to her would forever be but a memory, as would that inextinguishable light in her ice blue eyes.

Still, though, she would be with him always. He would carry her in his heart. He had done so for years previous, and though it seemed more to ask now that he had been able to share his feelings with her, he could do so again.

He heard her whisper softly in his ear, sharing a private moment with him, her tone belaying more than her words would ever say. He would forever remember the first conversation he had held with her, his tongue tied in knots as he tried desperately to remain proper and not say the wrong thing.

Most of all, he heard her whisper that she loved him. He would forever remember the way that those words had made his heart sing. He had heard the words before, but never had he waited so very long for them, and never had they meant so much. Somehow, he knew, that memory alone would carry him through even the darkest hours before the dawn.

He allowed himself a slight, bittersweet smile as he remembered her face in the way that was uniquely his own. The face he saw when he looked upon her visage was always at its most beautiful to him. Her face was an amalgamation of every time he had ever looked upon her throughout the years. He face wore makeup, was bare, shone with laughter, and wept with grief all at the same time. Her hair was long, short, and curled all at once in the memory he carried. Her face was the face he had fallen in love with the very first moment he had looked into her eyes. No one had ever seen her face in the way he had, and no one ever would.

He smiled bitterly, tears still straining the corners of his eyes. At least he had had but a short time in which he could truly call her his own, though she had owned his heart for more than thirty years, and he expected that she would continue to do so until they were reunited in a place that no course heading or warp speed could ever allow him to reach.

She was be a part of him and he would continue to love her all the same. Forever.

--

He would go with her, she knew as she faded into the unknown and into nothingness, and he would carry her though on the next phase of her journey, for even though they were separated by a distance she would never be able to traverse, she would continue to love him just the same. Forever.


End file.
